Sometimes a sacred dread instills
The will that winds through want-cast lips
Life’s ephemeral fortune spills
To vaults past outstretched fingertips
The holiness of have and hold
Is bold; how ravenous the air
That weans with weightless moment-gold
All but wonderment’s green-leafed stare
This ration of passion’s big splash
Dumbfounds the spectator of years
How soon the hour is awash
With ashes of time’s seasoned tears
The thread that weaves through skin, a path
Toward the soul winnows this stance
Twixt Imminence and Aftermath
Where whispers fall through outstretched hands
…then sometimes awe and dread instills
Us with Love’s Sacred Gravity
That draws its law from clocks until
They falter, in eternity…
Time’s Calling-and-Election Gasp
Its holy, holy have and hold
Slips, rose-and-nettle through the clasp
Of fingers slowly growing cold
© Janet Martin
...and on a personal note: our internet was intermittent at best, always.
Today a technician came out to update all the equipment and wow!!! what a difference!
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!